


Dark And Lonely Nights (5+1)

by SwanFloatieKnight



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Eventual Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Getting Together, Late at Night, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Quest of Erebor, Sleep Deprivation, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:33:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29831211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwanFloatieKnight/pseuds/SwanFloatieKnight
Summary: Five nights in which they laid awake (+ one in which they finally could sleep)
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 16
Kudos: 62





	1. The first night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IfIWouldDoThat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IfIWouldDoThat/gifts), [leeswaggy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leeswaggy/gifts), [FervidAsAFlame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FervidAsAFlame/gifts).



> for my lovely friend I want to get into Middle Earth, for the bestest buddy I have, and for my Hobbit buddy :D
> 
> wheeeee, my first 5+1 fic! :D  
> this took me forever to write, idk why  
> i hope you enjoy it :D
> 
> I borrowed some of the dialogue from the films, that's what's cursive in the text, but it isn't much :)

A/N: I posted this fic on Ao3, and on Ao3 alone. If you read this on any other website or platform, please consider that I did not consent to this.

* * *

It was the first night in a very long time that Bilbo was lying in his own bed at home and could not sleep. In fact, this hadn’t happened in such a long time that he couldn’t even remember when he had last been so troubled, so nervous, so anxious, so… he couldn’t even put his finger on the emotions that were going through his troubled mind that night.

The song the dwarves had sung had stirred something in his heart, a strange longing that he hadn’t experienced ever before. The longing to leave with them at first light tomorrow, the longing to be brave and adventurous and so un-hobbitish that he hardly knew himself.

Had it been the song these dwarves had sung? Was this his Took side that Gandalf had mentioned that was awakening? Or was it actually something else?

On top of all his emotional turmoil the song the dwarves had sung was also stuck in his head and it annoyed him to no end. And their leader, Thorin… his voice was it that was echoing in Bilbo’s mind now, a soft, melodic baritone, not as harsh and hollow as he had imagined dwarven voices to be. And this voice let him dream of a soft man behind it, a man with strong hands, a kind smile and a loyal heart.

He wasn’t sure yet if he really liked these thoughts. Thoughts about Thorin Oakenshield that he should rather not have. No decent hobbit thought about running away, much less about running away with a dwarf. A dwarf who was on a mission to reclaim his homeland from a dangerous, fire-breathing dragon. No, this was an affair that Bilbo better kept his nose out of.

But there was no way of denying that they also got him excited. Maybe the strange longing he felt was not all about going on that quest. Maybe not all adventures involved dragons.

With yet another sigh Bilbo turned again onto his other side and buried his head in his pillow. But it was long past midnight when he finally fell into a fitful sleep.

In the guest room at the other end of the hallway Thorin had trouble falling asleep, too. It was not that the bed was by any means uncomfortable, no. In fact, he had a hard time remembering when he had last slept in such a soft and comfortable bed. Maybe this was the reason why he couldn’t fall asleep, his head resting on a soft pillow and the warm duvet pulled up over his ears. Maybe he was too comfortable.

Thorin got up and laid down on the carpet for a while, but when the change of scenery did not bring the desired effect he crawled back into bed. No use in wasting this opportunity. It was better to lie awake on a soft feather mattress than on the hard, wooden floor, especially with the perspective of months of travels ahead, of sleeping outside in the grass, under trees or in even worse places.

Still Thorin was tossing and turning and couldn't fall asleep. He couldn't help it - couldn't help thinking about Bilbo. This strange hobbit who had seemed so overwhelmed with thirteen dwarves all around him who were as suspicious of and confused about him as he was. Who had been very reluctant to come on their quest, and if Thorin was honest, who also did not look fit enough to survive it.

Something about how Bilbo had tried to deal with the company, to be all polite and a good host while at the same time looking hopelessly overtaxed and afraid of even the idea of joining the company – something about this had touched Thorin’s heart. Yes, he had said to Gandalf that he could not guarantee for the hobbit’s safety if he should join them. But something told him that he would still try his very best to protect him.

There was something about Bilbo that made Thorin very protective. He was not yet sure how to think about the emotions stirring in his heart when he thought about the little hobbit, so small and unexperienced and vulnerable, with no real idea about what might await him, yet he already feared it.

Thorin did not want Bilbo to come along. He hated the very thought of what could happen to him, out there in the wilderness. If Bilbo decided to join their company, Thorin swore to himself, he would make sure that there would always be a sword between Bilbo and the dangers of the road. Preferably his own sword, because as skilled a warrior as Dwalin might be, when it came to Bilbo Thorin was not entirely sure if he would entrust him with such an important task.

Inside his chest, close to his heart, Thorin could feel a strange ache, a tightness that he hadn’t felt before. It made him nervous. Almost as nervous as the thought of Bilbo joining their company…

With a heavy sigh Thorin turned onto his other side and closed his eyes, but sleep would not come.


	2. The second night

Their clothes were soaking wet and Bilbo was shivering hard when he curled up in a corner of the cave as far away from Thorin as possible. He was hurt that Thorin had so little faith in him, but what hurt him most was that Thorin had only confirmed what Bilbo himself had long suspected.

He was unworthy to be part of the company. He was lost, out here in the wild, he should never have come here, just like Thorin had told him.

But it still hurt if someone told you the unpleasant truth. Especially in a moment like this. Bilbo had been far too close to harm for everyone’s liking, had nearly fallen into the chasm, nearly fallen to his death, his hands and knees had still been shaking and all he had wished for was a hug. Well, he was clever enough to know that a hug was very much not up for debate, so a pat on the shoulder would have done as well. Or at least a few friendly words and an encouraging smile, from anyone, really.

All he had received had been cold stares and a few passive-aggressive comments from Thorin, together with a few apologetic, pitiful glances after that. Not a single word of comfort. None of the dwarves had dared to speak up against their king. Not that Bilbo had expected them to do so, but one could wish, right?

Now Bilbo was lying on the cold, hard ground, his arms tightly wrapped around himself, unable to get warm. At least the rain wasn’t pouring down onto him any longer, but the stone was still icy, and the snoring of the dwarves kept him awake as well as his own chattering teeth. All he could think about was the hurt. His stomach hurt from hunger, his feet hurt from all the walking in the mountains, but what hurt most was his heart. It clenched anxiously in his chest when he thought about Thorin who was sleeping only a few metres away from him.

Thorin, who thought so little of him. Thorin, whom he wanted to impress. From the first day on he had made the decision that he wanted to show not only himself, but Thorin also that he was very much capable of surviving. That he could keep up with them. That he was as much a part of the company as they were, and that he deserved his place among them.

The longer he thought about it, the clearer it became to him that he had failed miserably. He was tired, cold, hungry, and he wanted to go home. Maybe when he went now, he would make it back to Rivendell on his own. He could stay there for a while and then make his way back to the Shire, with Gandalf maybe, after Thorin and his company had been successful and didn’t need the wizard’s help anymore.

He tried to ignore these thoughts at first, turned around, tried to ignore the snoring around him, the cold and the hard and uncomfortable floor he was lying on. But sleep eluded him, he found his mind returning to this thought over and over again, and every time he considered it anew it seemed less crazy and more reasonable.

Until he finally decided that he would never find peace again if he stayed with them. He would always not be enough, always hate himself for being weak and pitiful and dependant. He already hated himself for coming along, why should he stay?

Bilbo got up as quietly as possible, packed his few belongings that he had taken out to use as a pillow back into his little rucksack and tightened the belt with his little sword around his hips. A sword for him, it was ridiculous. Even if he ever came into a situation in which he would maybe need it (and there were no dwarves around to defend him), he didn’t even have the slightest idea how to use one. Really, it was best if he sneaked out now and went back home. The storm had lessened a bit, if the far away rolls of thunder outside were anything to go by. Quietly, Bilbo tip-toed towards the exit.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Fuck. Bofur.

For a second, Bilbo’s heart stopped. Of course, someone was standing guard, and of course the guard would notice him. Foolish, really, to think he could slip away unnoticed. Well, maybe he could at least put his diplomatic skills to use and talk himself out of the awkward situation. With an internal sigh, he turned around.

“Back to Rivendell.”

When Thorin heard the whispered words at the entrance of the cave his breath hitched, and he opened his eyes in shock. It took all his self-control to not give away that he was awake while he eavesdropped almost anxiously. Bilbo wanted to leave, now, in the middle of the night, with a storm raging outside? He couldn’t mean that – or could he?

He had felt uneasy about this cave from the beginning, but that was not what had kept him awake. Bilbo slipping and nearly falling into the chasm had given him a heart attack, he had been unable to catch him and what if he had –

Bilbo could have died. He could have died and there had been nothing Thorin could have done to save him. This had not been a danger that he could fight off with a sword. He had been entirely helpless. It had scared him. And he had shouted at Bilbo for being so stupid, for endangering himself, for scaring him.

Now he regretted it, his words must have hurt Bilbo and Thorin felt terrible about it. He had sworn to himself that he would apologise first thing tomorrow, but then he heard that Bilbo wanted to go back to Rivendell, right now, in the middle of the night, and the longer he listened to Bofur and Bilbo talking the clearer it became to him that Bilbo was serious about this. Very serious.

Thorin hadn’t wanted to give himself away, to let them know that he had been awake all the time and listened to them, but now he was about to speak up. He had to at least try and stop him. Thorin wanted Bilbo to stay with him, by his side!

He sat up, the call for Bilbo already on his lips but then Bofur spoke again.

“Oh – what’s this?”

Bilbo’s sword – the long elven knife Gandalf had given to him – was glowing blue. Not a faint blue shimmer, it was glowing brightly in the darkness. There must be orcs nearby, a lot of orcs, very close.

Thorin jumped to his feet, all his reassuring words for Bilbo forgotten.

“Wake up!”


	3. The third night

When the door had fallen shut behind them and they were all safely inside the large wooden house, Bilbo had sighed audibly in relief. They were not entirely safe, but for the first time since they had left Rivendell they had reached a place that at least looked like a home, and that helped him a great deal to relax a little. His shoulders slumped; he felt the heaviness of exhaustion crashing down upon him. All he wanted was to lay down and forget about the hardships they had gone through in the past days, at least for a while.

But when Thorin had assigned each of them a place in the hay and Bilbo had snuggled into his blanket as comfortably as possible he was too exhausted to sleep. His feet ached, his legs, heavy as lead, burned from all the walking and his head was spinning even though he was now lying down. Bilbo was utterly exhausted, and yet he couldn’t sleep.

His fingers were playing with the cool golden ring in his pocket, the one he had found in the orc tunnels. Just like his fingers his thoughts were reluctant to let go of it.

The ring… had saved his life. It had turned him invisible. That much Bilbo could explain. But _why_ it had turned him invisible, that he couldn’t answer. Why had he been the one to pick it up, why did he not want anyone to know about it, not even Gandalf? _Especially_ not Gandalf. Something about this ring was weird, dangerously so probably, but at the same time something in his mind was nudging him not to pay too close attention to it. Just ignore the ring for the time being. There were other matters on his mind, more urgent and more annoying.

Actually, it was only one matter, and this matter was Thorin. Thorin’s unfair attractiveness that had captured Bilbo’s little heart. Thorin was not only stern and cold, but also extremely handsome and Bilbo hated himself for falling for him. Because fallen for him he had, and it was more than just a little crush or a passing fancy, that much he knew now for certain. The immediate danger in the orc tunnels had told him far more than he had been willing to admit beforehand.

Now he knew why he wanted Thorin not to die, and it scared him. Because Thorin already scorned him and whatever Bilbo had done in the past days it had only ever brought him or all of them into trouble. No, Bilbo could see why Thorin disliked him. He would dislike himself just as much, if he was the leader of a company and one person there was constantly endangering the entire mission because of their incapability.

Yet this did nothing to make Bilbo’s heart flutter less when Balin praised him for sneaking up on them. For the first time he had done something well, something that not even Thorin had found anything to criticise on. Bilbo had been proud, so proud, and Thorin had not looked entirely grumpy and for a second he had almost dared to _hope_.

Bilbo was still lost in the memory of Thorin’s barely-there smile when he had welcomed him back when the sound of a door opening distracted him from his thoughts. He tucked his ring away as if it was a dirty little secret, something nobody must know about. Well, nobody should know about it. He could not explain this reluctance, it was just there.

With the ring safely hidden in his pocket Bilbo turned around to see if he could make out who it was that had entered the house. The light was dim, but his eyes were sharp enough to make out the silhouette of a man. A tall man with wild hair and broad shoulders. He looked a bit like Bilbo could imagine Thorin would look if he was not a dwarf…

The man turned towards Bilbo, and even though Bilbo couldn’t see a thing he felt like he was staring directly at him. He shrank back, his heart racing. Had the man seen him? Had he noticed him watching him? Bilbo didn’t dare to look again and find out. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

Thorin was worried. He had been so incredibly worried for Bilbo from the moment when he had nearly fallen into the chasm, and from there it had gotten gradually worse. They had fallen into an orc cave, they had tried to fight their way out, and suddenly Bilbo had been missing. Thorin thought his heart would stop. They had lost their hobbit, and whatever the other members of the company might think about him, no matter how crucial or irrelevant he might be for the eventual success of their quest, he was _his_ to protect and he had failed to do so. Thorin had failed him.

Even though Bilbo had reappeared amongst them all of a sudden, as if by magic, and Thorin had been relieved (far more relieved than he wanted to admit, not even to himself), this episode had made him reconsider if he was truly the leader, the King that his companions saw in him. If he really deserved to be their King, as this was more than a birth right. Mainly, it was a duty. And Thorin was no longer sure if he was the right person to fulfil this duty.

Was he really capable of caring for all his people? Of looking out for them, watching so that no one was left behind, that no one got hurt or even worse, died? Apparently, he could not even manage to look after a company of twelve dwarves, or a hobbit. Not even when said hobbit meant the world to him.

These thoughts were weighing heavily on his mind, making him anxious and keeping him from sleep. Bilbo, precious little Bilbo, was resting safely in the hay together with the twelve dwarves. They all were his responsibility, and he had hardly brought them over the Misty Mountains. Wouldn’t have if not for the help of Gandalf and Gwaihír. If not for them, most of his company, maybe they all, would be dead by now.

Bilbo could be dead.

The very thought of the precious little hobbit, cold, dead, unmoving, in some cavern in the mountains, eaten by wargs, killed by orcs made his blood freeze. It was one thing to face dangers against which he could not protect Bilbo, dangers like thunderstorms or chasms. It was another thing to see him in the hands of orcs, orcs which Thorin might be able to fight. But he had failed.

How could he be King one day if he was not even able to protect those he loved?

No matter how exhausted Thorin was, sleep would not come to him that night.


	4. The fourth night

Of course, they would run into elves. Bloody wood elves with their bows and arrows and their oh so superior fighting skills. Yes, Thorin had been glad that they had killed the spiders, he had been as exhausted and dizzy from the poison as all of the company. That didn’t mean though that he liked being rescued by elves in particular. But it was still better than being eaten by spiders.

Until the elves started disarming them. And led them away – as prisoners. Thorin was furious, but he couldn’t show it. He was the leader of the company, the King under the Mountain, he had to appear all calm and diplomatic just in case, no matter how much he hated it. They were looking weak and pathetic in front of these elves and Thorin hated it with every fibre of his body.

Just when he thought it couldn’t be worse though Bofur whispered to him: “Thorin, where’s Bilbo?”

And frankly, even though Thorin might have forgotten about the hobbit during the fight and over hating these arrogant elves from this moment on he couldn’t stop worrying about Bilbo. Where could the hobbit have gone? None of the dwarves had seen him, they told him in Iglishmêk, and also the Elves made no comment about another prisoner, as far as Thorin could understand them with his, admittedly very limited, knowledge of Sindarin. But they were certainly always only talking about thirteen prisoners (Thorin had learned how to count in Elvish by heart, so that no elvish merchant might ever scam him), and exclusively referring to them as dwarves.

Where could Bilbo be?

This question kept Thorin awake in the long, dark nights beneath the elven palace. The question – and his worries. What if Bilbo was still somewhere out there in the forest, all alone, on his own, defenceless, starving, maybe eaten by the spiders? He didn’t even want to think about what could have happened to the little hobbit. What if Bilbo was out in the forest dying?

Maybe their imprisonment was his luck. They might never get out of the elven dungeons ever in their lives, not after his heated talk with Thranduil in which he had been carried away and insulted the Elven King. He regretted his choice of words more than his reaction though, because down here locked in the cells of the palace might also be the only place where Bilbo could find them. If they stayed in one place, maybe Bilbo would come across some elves in the woods. Maybe they would capture him as well. Maybe they would at least be in here together again.

Thorin hated to admit it, but he missed Bilbo. Yes, he more often than not pretended that the hobbit’s cheerful chatter annoyed him, but if he was honest, he liked it. It brightened the endless, exhausting days of their journey for him, it distracted him from the monotony of the forest around them and from the hunger and thirst. Most importantly though it was an indicator for Bilbo’s own well-being. As Thorin had learned quite at the beginning of their journey, even before they had had their encounter with the trolls, Bilbo only stopped chattering when he was in a really bad mood or he was feeling really badly.

Now he was missing this chatter, he was missing Bilbo’s presence, and he had no way to tell if Bilbo was still well, or even alive. Thorin buried his face in his hands. This hobbit would drive him mad one day.

Bilbo was exhausted. He was so tired from sneaking around the elven palace for days, invisible all the time yet never really at ease because hobbits might be quiet, but elves had sharp ears and eyes and would notice even the slightest disturbance. Stealing food was difficult, finding quiet places in which to eat or to rest even more so.

He hardly slept. Not only because it was nearly impossible to relax when he was living in the constant fear that in his sleep, he would accidentally make a noise that would give him away. It was also extremely hard to relax when you had to fear that while you were asleep some unfortunate elf might literally stumble upon your invisible form and thus find out about you. This was Bilbo’s worst nightmare, and when he did manage to fall asleep, he was usually woken up by dreams like this, in which he was discovered, questioned about the dwarves, imprisoned, all their hope of reaching Erebor in time was lost and Thorin put all the blame on him.

That was the reason why Bilbo did not sleep at night, he laid awake and thought about Thorin. How was he faring in his cell, how did the elves treat him – and how did he treat the elves? Bilbo really hoped that Thorin wouldn’t make life harder for himself by insulting the guards or even the king. He knew Thorin, he could very well imagine him losing his temper. If only the elves did not punish him too hard before he could work out a plan to get them out of here.

Yes, a plan. That was the other thing he thought about during the nights when he could force his thoughts to let go of Thorin. He needed to find a way out of the palace, a way that was accessible for all of them, not just for the ones who were lucky enough to own a magic ring that turned them invisible. The gates were guarded day and night, and also were closed most of the time. The palace was huge, but Bilbo had yet to find windows that lead out of it, so this was not a possibility either. He would have to come up with something else, and quickly, if he wanted to get the dwarves out in time so that their mission of reclaiming their homeland

But only a few days later did he discover the trapdoor in the cellar through which the elves sent empty barrels back to Lake Town. From then on it took him only a few more nights to come up with a plan. A desperate plan, but it might actually work, with a bit of luck and if the dwarves actually listened to him and cooperated for once.

He was, indeed, very lucky, as the elves were celebrating that night. The guards were drunk and it was easy for Bilbo to steal the keys to the cells. Only then did he sneak down to the dungeons to free the dwarves and lead them out.

_“We’re never gonna reach the mountain, are we?”_

_“Not stuck in here you won’t.”_


	5. The fifth night

_“I’ll vouch for him!”_

These words were still haunting Bilbo. Had he really stepped forward for Thorin? Mentally, he could only shake his head. He really had come a long way from the hobbit that had been lying awake in Bag End that night when the dwarves had crashed at his place. The hobbit back in Bag End would probably have been ashamed had he known how he would act only months later, standing up for these dwarves, using all his diplomatic skill just to see that their quest would succeed in the end.

And when he thought ‘ _their_ quest’, by now Bilbo very much considered himself to be part of said quest. He was as much a part of the company as Balin and Bombur and Dori and even as Thorin himself. Not just on the paper. He even felt like he was a part of the group now. He had found a place where he belonged.

At least for now.

Tomorrow they were going to leave for Erebor. From there on, Bilbo had no idea where their fate would lead them. Their journey was coming to an end.

The mountain was intimidating, he feared it in a way that he couldn’t explain, not even to himself. Was it the sleeping dragon beneath it?

Or were there other dragons, sleeping in hidden places deep in Bilbo’s own mind and heart, that frightened him? What were they threatening him with? What was he afraid of?

Certainly, one of these dragons was sleeping next to Bilbo, snoring softly, his face half hidden by his dark locks. Bilbo tried not to stare too obviously in case Thorin or one of the others woke up, but he couldn’t stop admiring the soft features of his face in the pale moonlight. His dark beard and eyebrows that usually let him appear a little grumpy and threatening now made his pale face look small and lonely.

Bilbo wanted to comfort him. He wished he could just crawl over and pat Thorin’s hair. It looked so soft… But Thorin would laugh at him, he certainly would, and being humiliated by his crush in front of the company was the last thing Bilbo wanted. Not now, when they were so close to reaching their goal. Not when their journey was almost over.

Never had Bilbo expected to feel this way, but the thought of their adventure coming to an end made him sad. He did not enjoy the idea of leaving the dwarves, but it was clear that they would stay in Erebor once they had reclaimed it, and there was nothing that Bilbo, who was just as homesick himself, could understand better.

With a deep breath he turned to the other side, staring up at the window where the moon was shining down at the Long Lake, at Esgaroth, at the Lonely Mountain. It must look beautiful in the cold light, but Bilbo was too warm and too comfortable to get up and look out of the window now.

When Thorin finally heard the rustle of Bilbo’s covers that meant he had turned around again he had to hold back not to sigh in relief. He had been feigning sleep because he did not want Bilbo to talk to him. Not when he was currently trying to gather his courage to approach the hobbit.

Thorin hated himself for being so pathetic. He hated himself for being such a coward. If he got another chance, he swore to himself, he would do better. He would confess his feelings for Bilbo earlier, to himself as well as to the hobbit. He would not waste precious months they could have spent together in more than just friendship.

He could not turn back time. The only thing he could do now was not to waste more of it and instead mend this situation as soon as possible. They were nearing the end of their journey, the Mountain ahead of them and with it – the dragon. Nothing had ever been certain on this quest, but things had never been more uncertain than now. If he did not approach Bilbo now, he would never.

Tomorrow he would do it, he swore to himself. He would see that he and Bilbo got a private moment, undisturbed by any of the others who might laugh at him or even pity him should Bilbo not return his feelings.

What if he would not?

What if he would?

Thorin’s hands were sweating just from thinking about it. He could not remember when he had last been so nervous about anything. Usually he had to handle important decisions on a political level, he was used to this and could deal with it. There, he knew what effects his decisions would have, he could calculate the risks to some degree and knew what kind of reaction to expect of the person opposite.

With Bilbo, he didn’t know, mainly because he couldn’t think straight. If any of the other dwarves learned about this, how Bilbo made his head spin, how he made his chest swell and his heart flutter Thorin would never live it down. He was loathe to admit it, but he did adore the hobbit. Very much. Too much for his own good, one might even say.

Thorin turned around and opened his eyes again. Sleep wouldn’t come to him that night. His thoughts were wrapped around Bilbo as tightly as he wished his arms would be. Through the darkness, he stared at the ceiling, wondering if tomorrow night he would still lie alone on his bedroll, or if maybe Bilbo would curl up next to him. He hated this fragile hope, and yet he knew that he had to cling to it if he wanted to find the courage to talk to Bilbo in the morning. It kept him going while at the same time it was making him too anxious to sleep. What if his hope would be betrayed?

While Thorin’s eyes were fixed on the dark wooden beams above him, Bilbo was staring at the shadows of the mullion and transom of the east-facing window were throwing onto the floor. He watched them growing smaller until they disappeared under the window sill when the moon wandered off into the West, and still he could not sleep.

Maybe, if they had known that the other was kept awake by thoughts quite similar to the ones they were brooding over, they might not have waited until the next day. Maybe they would have talked to each other there and then. A nervous sigh, a deep breath, a whispered love confession in the dead of the night was all it would have taken to help them sleep.

But they did not know.


	6. The other night

Bilbo could still feel his fingers shaking, his knees were not as steady as he wanted them to be, but Thorin was there, next to him, well and alive. He had taken a bath, what had been direly needed after the battle when he had been all covered in blood and sweat. A mad grin had been on the dwarf’s face, a grin that had told Bilbo the good news even before Thorin had so much as opened his mouth.

They had won.

And Thorin was still alive.

Still alive, and still in love with him.

He had kissed Bilbo fiercely, had pulled him into a long embrace and whispered sweet words into Bilbo’s ears that had made the hobbit blush up to the tips of said ears. He had hugged Thorin back and buried his hands in the long, dark hair and breathed in his scent of blood and sweat and stone and _Thorin_ , and he was just happy that his lover was alive.

Thorin had taken him to bed this night, a proper bed, not just their bedrolls put down next to each other on the cold stone floor. He had placed Bilbo’s head on a pillow and wrapped him in warm blankets and gotten into bed behind him and wrapped his arms around him.

Bilbo had felt secure and warm for the first time since he had left Bag End. He still remembered the first sleepless night after he had met Thorin and the dwarves. It felt forever long ago, so long that it had almost left hist memory. How scared he had been of going on this long journey, and how nervous he had been about Thorin’s presence back then. He had been ashamed of his crush, had feared that someone might notice it. And yet, he had been so determined to prove himself to the stubborn and proud dwarf. To impress him. To show him that he was very much worth coming on this journey and that he definitely did not need looking after.

And now he was here, safe and warm, in Thorin’s arms, and everything they had hoped for had come to pass. Bilbo was happy. Sometimes, life was good.

When Bilbo closed his eyes tonight he had no trouble falling asleep.

The battle was over. More importantly, the battle was won. The most important thing though was that every one of his company, all thirteen dwarves and the hobbit, had survived it. Erebor was theirs again, Smaug was dead, and Bilbo…

Well, Bilbo had been overjoyed when Thorin had asked to court him, on the day they had left Esgaroth. Stunned and incredulous at first, but when Thorin had reassured him a few times that he was very much serious about this a broad grin had spread across Bilbo’s face that hadn’t really stopped ever since.

With a blissful sigh Thorin closed his eyes. He was content and happy with his arms now tightly wrapped around Bilbo, his own treasure that he would never let go. Bilbo was worth more than all the gold and jewels beneath the mountain. He was more valuable than the Arkenstone itself.

And now he was curled up at Thorin’s side, right where he belonged, right where Thorin wanted him to be. Together, they had made it to the end of the journey, together they had defeated the dragon, and a host of orcs, and the best thing was that they had ended up getting together as well. Whatever might yet happen, the future looked so much brighter to Thorin than it had only half a year ago.

He still remembered the night in Bag End, the first night after meeting Bilbo. He had hated the thought of Bilbo joining the company, and while on the outside he had played it down as thinking the hobbit would be useless and a burden to them he had always just been worried about Bilbo. That hadn’t changed. In fact, Thorin wasn’t sure if it ever would change. He hoped not. But while he would always be protective of Bilbo he now also knew that his soon-to-be-husband could very well look after himself, and after Thorin. They were good for one another. He could see that now.

Thorin buried his nose in Bilbo’s hair to breathe in the scent of earth and water and Bilbo that made him feel home. When he closed his eyes that night, he soon fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, and when he woke Bilbo was still there, huddled close to his side, and they were still in Erebor, in his kingdom, solid, familiar stone surrounding them. It had not been a dream.

From now on, their nights would be warm and peaceful.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please leave me a comment and Kudos! :D


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